Why Tony Doesn't Like to Be Handed Things
by Emily Rai
Summary: Just what it says on the tin. More character study than story about why Tony Stark doesn't like to be handed things. Kind of Angsty because that seems to be what I do best..


Tony was three the first time he felt the sharp sting of a soldering iron burning his skin. Howard carelessly handing it off to him with the still hot metal facing the toddler that had only just been shown how to use it. He had cried out loudly at the sensation, fat tears rolling down his cheeks while Howard snapped at him to man up. Starks are made of iron after all and if Tony wants to build he can't cry at every little thing.

By the time he's four he has his first circuit board along with a thick white line across the center of his palm to remind him of which end of the soldering iron is the one to pick up.

When he's five and watching Howard do maintenance on one of the cars, wanting desperately to help his father in some way- to make him _proud_ \- he learns just how badly it hurts to break a finger. It takes a moment for the pain to register as Howard shoves the wrench he's been using at Tony without looking, it's not until Tony glances down and sees the odd angle of his pinky that he begins to feel the damage. Howard gives him a cursory glance, sets the bone himself and goes back to work mumbling something about how _Captain America would never let something like a broken_ _ **pinky**_ _slow him down._

At age six Tony has managed to construct an engine on his own from scraps around Howards workshop. There's an unnatural curve to one of his pinkies that tells him to always pay attention to how his fingers are positioned when tools are involved.

At seven Tony's just started boarding school and note after note is shoved into his hands on a daily basis. Young and eager for friends he opens them with ever dimming hope that the next one will be filled with kind words.

By eight he throws them out without a glance, unseen scars on his heart reminding him that nobody wants a _freak that's too smart for his own good_ around.

At nine one of his classmates holds out a fork that he dropped in the dining hall, but instead of handing it to him when he holds his hand out the tines are stabbed into the fleshy part of his palm.

When he's ten he chooses only food that can be eaten with his hands and has four evenly spaced marks to remind him not to trust his classmates when they act kindly.

He's eleven when one of his teachers asks him to help carry some materials to his car. It's after the man has shoved more than Tony could possibly hope to hold and is too busy focusing on not dropping anything that he's grabbed from behind.

At twelve he can feel the ghost of ropes tying his hands together behind his back and the smug voice of two of his teachers gloating about how easy it was to trick him imprinted in his mind as a reminder that he shouldn't trust anyone even the people that are supposedly there to protect him. After all _everyone_ has a price.

He's thirteen when his lab partner shoves a beaker into his hands, making the chemical inside slosh over the rim. It eats right through the protective gloves he's wearing as well as several layers of skin before he manages to get it washed off.

At fourteen he works without a partner and has rough calluses covering both hands to remind him why acid shouldn't come in contact with human flesh.

He's fifteen and Howard shoves a credit card with no limit into his hands as his things are moved into his new dorm at MIT. "I don't care what you spend, just don't get arrested and don't come home until summertime." The words are uttered carelessly and the man doesn't glance back as he walks away from his only son.

When he's sixteen he's got a lonely dorm room, more money than he needs and nothing to lose. People at parties press drinks into his hands one after the other and he just keeps tipping them back until he can't see straight anymore. Finally when he can't remember why he hates himself the ROTC student that lives in the same building as him, Rhodey or something ridiculous like that, carries him back to his room and tucks him in.

At seventeen Obie hands him a tumbler of whiskey before sitting him down and telling him his parents are dead. He stares into the dark liquor for a long time as the emptiness of his father's mansion seems to echo around him. And he longs to be anywhere else in the world in that moment.

He decides then that he doesn't like to be handed things. It's not like it's ever lead to anything good.


End file.
